


easier to burn

by finalizer



Category: Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Everything Hurts, Krennic Centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:45:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8847364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalizer/pseuds/finalizer
Summary: But it's beautiful, it's poetic, to be taken apart by the very thing he's created.





	

When his shuttle lands on Lah’mu and he faces his old friend for the first time in years, that's the moment Orson Krennic's perfectly constructed balance starts to crumble. He simply doesn't realize it until it's too late.

He thinks back on years past, stolen kisses in the dark of their dormitory corridor, and can't quite find the missing puzzle piece to explain how it all led to utter destruction. Because that’s what this is: the disintegration of everything they’d once held dear.

He stares across the green field at Galen, coated in a fine shine of morning rain, and sees the unbridled hatred in those dark eyes. Where there used to be sincerity, where there used to be an intoxicating concoction of affection and hunger, there is little more than disgust.

Galen doesn't go willingly.

Krennic should have known better than to expect obedience from the man who'd broken every rule laid down in front of him.

The wife tries her best to interfere. _Lyra_. She's down before Krennic can pretend to care, to spare her a second thought. She's always been there, a presence in the recesses of his mind, gnawing at him in furious bites of jealousy.

He tries to remember the last time Galen had looked at him as a friend, a lover, as anything remotely resembling humanity. He fails. He tries to recall Galen’s promise that they would stay at each other's side until the end of days. Naive, boyish nothings, is all those words were. Dear Galen had met sweet Lyra and had forgotten all about his oath. Or maybe it’d never meant as much to him as it had to Krennic. Sealed with a kiss and a night in a tangled embrace, still ended up accounting to nothing.

There's a sick satisfaction in watching the pain mangle Galen’s features, as everything he worked to protect shatters into irreparable shards around him. A taste of the same loss he served Krennic when he abandoned him and moved along.

Years pass and the antagonism grows. It festers and bubbles until it threatens to spill over the surface. Krennic makes desperate attempts to repair whatever there is to salvage between him and Galen, and finds there's so very little. They've hurt one another too much and too deeply to speak of amends. Each blames the other for far more than they're willing to forgive.

Yet Krennic tries, and all it does is drive him closer towards oblivion.

He strives to steal affection by force, biting kisses in the dimly lit, winding halls of an Imperial Star Destroyer. So very different from all those years ago; now fueled solely by anger, and hatred, a last ditch attempt at breaking the other past the point of repair. The contrast is jarring and they both understand, they’re not the same people they once were.

The work continues and Krennic makes promises he's not certain he can keep: to the Emperor, to the dark mystical creature he's to consider his overlord. Despite so many years of grueling labor and obsessive loyalty, the security is relentless, and Krennic’s convictions persistently questioned. His gut boils in fury at the very thought of never fulfilling his potential, and he pushes harder, makes damn sure he pulls every string within his grasp to prove them all wrong and ascend in their graces. He knows he needs the one way ticket to the top, he needs Galen. He sees no obstacle too deterring.

The weapon flourishes until it's near finished, and every detail seems perfect until it's not. There's a flaw in the plan, a leak in the ranks, a horrid traitor in their midst blowing holes in Krennic’s ambition. He confronts the assembled engineers, tries to play nice, asks as courteously as he can without snapping bones and personally reaching for his blaster. He doesn't expect Galen, of all people, to step forward, to take full responsibility ( _credit_   _—_ he's proud of his deceit. Galen takes credit).

He orders the execution, he revels as Galen flinches in horror. He strikes Galen and watches as he falls. He taunts him, and belittles him, reminds him he's nothing in the face of the Empire. It's nothing but temporary satisfaction, the agony upon Galen's features. Krennic still yearns for more, after everything.

The next moments are a blur, a cacophony of blasts and shudders, a rainstorm of fire swirling out from surrounding explosions. It's all a dark haze as Krennic is swept away and evacuated. He doesn't know Galen didn't make it until he's light years away. He'd seen the body, Galen lying broken amongst the smoldering debris, yet a part of him had prayed to whatever deity may have been listening for a glimmer of hope. Hope never comes, just a quick transmission, a damage report. _Galen Erso, deceased._ It's not until then that he realizes his last act towards Galen was to hurt him. Again. He'd hurt Galen again and again and again. Every cutting word and horrid action was to burrow the dagger deeper into Galen’s heart. Krennic stares blankly at the bland durasteel wall in front of him. He doesn't remember how to cry.

In his daze, he thinks back on that fateful day, their first meeting: the day young Orson Krennic had decided he would befriend the orphaned genius. An innocent moment complex enough to bring them down in the end. Krennic had seen potential, and he’d seen a friend, a worthy companion to thrive at his side. Later a lover, a kindred spirit. He still can't quite pinpoint the moment the beautiful canvas they were painting began to warp and morph into something horrible. Such violent delights were bound to bring about a violent end.

Krennic considers, for the briefest of moments, if given the chance, he would turn back time and patch the holes between them before they spread and tore them apart. But his rage overtakes the nauseating sentimentality and blindly wipes out the useless recesses of Krennic’s mind that still _cared_.

Part of him is glad for the newfound tranquility. The path is more clear this way.

He confronts Vader, demands his share of credit, does his best not to shy away from his enforcer's stature. He'd already impressed Tarkin, he's relayed the good news to the menace hiding behind the mask, he demands glory from the Emperor himself.

He's left on his knees, gasping for breath. And right then he knows he cannot fail again.

They land back at base and new intelligence arises, with leads tracing to rebel troops and classified documents.

Just like that, every cell in his body is reborn, and he's wholly grateful for the clarity it brings. He tries to trace back to anything that would hold him at bay, that would tie him to morality, and finds that path had burned down along with whatever was left of Galen Erso.

A new door opens, and Krennic steps through.

He chases a squadron down to Scarif, puts every effort into mobilizing the Imperial forces at his command to stop the enemy's plan before it gets too far. He doesn't know his own fleet is being obliterated right outside the planet’s atmosphere. He doesn't know the shields are disabled, and higher powers are making decisions in his absence. Krennic foolishly believes he can still come out on top, that Tarkin, of all people, cares whether he makes it off the wretched planet alive.

He corners the girl: small, doe eyed, hauntingly familiar. In a matter of seconds, she tells him everything he never wanted to hear, and each word is an open wound in his chest. A flaw in the schematics, a plan Galen had spent years developing. A betrayal amplified by the knowledge it was happening right under Krennic’s nose and he'd been too infatuated with the culprit in question to notice. _Love is blind_ , a voice tells him, but he shakes it off. It was never love. Not for him, not for Galen. He knows now the only reason for Galen's acquiescence through all these years was to hide his true intentions, his treachery.

And Jyn _—_  her name is Jyn  _—_ the swaddled baby he’d first seen in Lyra’s arms all those years ago, when he'd gone out of his way to set Galen free and offer him a life altering opportunity. She’s so much like him, like Galen, at that age: determined and defiant, bright eyes that have seen their fair share of horrors. It's a distracting similarity, and his grip falters for a second at most.

The girl merely glares at him, unaware of his overflowing thoughts, as he levels his blaster at her heart. She tells him he's already lost.

It's funny, really. He should have known that with Galen as his beginning, Galen would be his end. And so his daughter, his legacy from beyond the grave, stands facing Krennic as a worthy adversary.

He wants to tell her that, he wants her to understand. He wants to distract her and stop her from ruining _everything_.

He feels the ripple of pain across his spine before he hears the shot, and his vision blurs with white hot agony as he drops his own weapon and loses balance. His knees weaken and meet the ground, he bites back a scream of anguish as the girl and her accomplice get away with their blasphemy.

He counts seconds, maybe minutes, before he senses the sickening heat of his own blood pooling through the crystalline white of his uniform, tearing through his symbol of power. How insignificant it seems now, his desire to climb to unattainable heights, to add colorful patches to his insignia.

And it's _beautiful_ , he thinks, when he sees the destructive ray come crashing through the atmosphere. A blinding light, a deafening crack reverberating through every inch of him, and just like that it's over.

But it's beautiful, it's poetic, to be taken apart by the very thing he's created. And it's far from failure in the end, Krennic knows, as he lets himself be shattered into ash: to be witness to the glory his Empire, the unadulterated destructive power he'd helped unleash is victory enough. And dear Galen, Force rest his soul, ultimately did nothing worthwhile to stop it. He was Krennic’s ticket to the top, and the ticket was admitted.

He knows he’s won. Despite everything, despite the agony wracking his body, and nauseating anticipation clouding his mind, Krennic knows he's won. It's a peace unlike any other.

And in spite of his best intentions, he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> [on 8tracks](https://8tracks.com/finalizer/instigate)


End file.
